Breakaway
by blacksugarbomb
Summary: A journey of a thousand miles always starts with a single step. Even if he has to bear the sorrow of leaving his past behind in order to achieve this, he'll do it.


**Author Note: **I suppose this could've fitted so many more other countries but being a rather patriotic Hong Konger, I wrote it on Hong Kong. Moreover, the father-son relationship between him and England is my weakness. I'm a sucker for families lol. I really didn't know what to write to keep to the song, so I just made up some scrappy plot here… Please bear with me!

|| Dedicated to **Someya** ||

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Hetalia or anything related to it.

* * *

_Grew up in a small town  
And when the rain would fall down  
I'd just stare out my window  
Dreaming of what could be  
And if I'd end up happy  
I would pray_

Sitting in the horse drawn carriage with England opposite him, Hong Kong found himself staring out the window, half staring at his own reflection and half watching the British country rush past with violent dashes of raindrops splattering against the glass. It had occurred to Hong Kong that the weather here was much like summer back on his island with the heavy rainfall. Although his eyes were focused on the blur of nature outside the carriage, his mind was not. As usual, his face was a perfect mask that showed none of his emotions and thoughts like the serene surface of an undisturbed sea hides the strong undercurrents, but beneath this mask, his mind was in chaos and his heartbeat erratic in insecurity.

He knows nothing of the European culture and the stories he'd heard about England were far from compassionate. Uncertainty overtook his entire body, fear throbbing through his veins. Turning away from the window for the first time since he had boarded the carriage, the boy locked eyes with England. Everything about the nation was foreign to him – those smiling emerald green eyes, the small tender smile that graced his lips when he returned the stare and his sunshine golden hair. Never had Hong Kong seen anyone with features like him; everyone at home had the same raven hair and near black eyes. Breaking the eye contact had somehow saddened the blonde man a little, but Hong Kong didn't care and resumed watching the passing countryside for the rest of the journey, a small voice praying in his heart, hoping that the future would not be tough, just as England's smile seemed to tell him.

_Trying hard to reach out  
But when I tried to speak out  
Felt like no one could hear me  
Wanted to belong here  
But something felt so wrong here  
So I prayed I could break away_

When finally the carriage came to a halt before a beautiful mansion situated not far from the heart of London but far enough to thrive in mother nature's embrace, Hong Kong stared up in awe at the large structure. Its design was antique and elegant, each inch of the building seemingly able to tell its own tale. If not for the gloomy weather, he had no doubt that this image would make a stunning painting. Whilst he still sat there gawking at the mansion, someone had swung the door of the carriage open, letting the moist air flood from outside into the carriage. Confused, the Asian simply sat there as England exited the carriage, a man dressed in a crisp black suit holding up an umbrella for him by the doorway. Once out of view, Hong Kong felt somewhat uneasy at the missing presence of the British man whom he had become accustomed to throughout the journey all the way from China via ship then carriage. Curious, the small colony hopped off his seat and poked his head out of the carriage. He instantly relaxed a little when he spotted his new guardian not far off speaking to a servant, the man in the suit still following him around with the umbrella held out for the blonde while he himself stood unshielded from the relentless rain.

As if he knew that he was being watched, England briskly dismissed the man he had been speaking to and returned to the carriage. Thinking he would be forcibly removed from the small space he had become comfortable with, Hong Kong dug his fingers into the rim of the doorway with a frown pasted onto his face. As much as this big mansion impressed him, he preferred not entering such an alien and exotic place. Betraying his expectations, the blonde only spread open his arms in a welcoming gesture. At first, England whispered gentle words to try reassure the young colony that he meant no harm. After a while, the British man realised that no, the boy did not understand English and for a moment, he was at a loss of what to do. In the end, England could only resort to more verbal coaxing until Hong Kong finally released his iron grip and allowed the older nation to pick him up.

Maybe, just maybe, his prayers had been answered. England didn't seem as ruthless as those stories claimed him to be. But there was still something out of place. Looking left and right, Hong Kong was confronted with people who shared similar traits to his new caretaker. He reached the conclusion that he was the one who didn't belong here. The anxiety that had vanished partway through the ride from the port returned again, tugging at his heart.

So he made a second prayer, and hoped that he would be able to go home where he belongs.

_Wanna feel the warm breeze  
Sleep under a palm tree  
Feel the rush of the ocean  
Get on board a fast train  
Travel on a jet plane, far away  
And breakaway_

It was the first night at England's house and it was unnerving. Everything in his new bedroom was far larger than his old bedroom at China's house – the room itself was larger, the bed a queen sized bed, the wardrobe half empty due to the small number of clothing that he brought with him. When he lived in China's house, everything was fitted compactly into one moderately sized room and it created a somewhat cosy atmosphere but everything in this room was so spaced out that it feels lonely to inhabit a room by himself.

It lacks the feeling of 'home'.

The rain from that afternoon was still throwing itself at his window, the faint drumming of rain on the glass resembling something like a mini percussion concerto. Occasionally, there would be the deep rumble of thunder accompanied by a bright flash of lightning. Left wide awake feeling rather displaced, Hong Kong couldn't help but think of home. The warm summer breezes, the soothing sunshine that kissed his skin when he took naps underneath the trees and the salty spray of the ocean were what he wanted to feel again.

By the time the distant Big Ben could be heard over the sound of thunder and whipping winds, its bell was chiming as its hands struck two in the morning whilst Hong Kong was nearing London, speeding in the rain on the back of one of England's horses. He wanted to go home, back into the arms of the almighty Eastern dragon. The only issue was that he didn't know the direction to the Port of London where they disembarked but knew he would eventually find it if he searched along the shores of that unpleasant smelling river called River Thames. The horse had been difficult to saddle up as it stood at least several hands taller than him but ultimately the job was done when Hong Kong stacked up a few crates he found in the corner of the stables. Initially the Asian found it troubling that his legs were far from reaching the stirrups – he had only ridden ponies so far at home – but then he gave up and just let his legs dangle over the horse's sides ungracefully. How did he get the horse moving? A hard slap on the rump of the animal was sufficient.

Before long, the street lamps of London were visible and the Big Ben pierced the horizon. Hong Kong could feel the horse's rippling muscles shift beneath him and hear the loud puffs of the horse as it continued to gallop. Its jet black coat was shimmering with a mixture of sweat and rain, its breath forming water vapour in the air. After continuously galloping full speed for what seemed like a full hour, the boy could tell the horse's strength was faltering.

_Buildings with a hundred floors  
Swinging around revolving doors  
Maybe I don't know where they'll take me but  
Gotta keep moving on, moving on  
Fly away, breakaway_

Once he reached the streets of London, Hong Kong walked through the street with an exhausted horse in tow. The streets were empty save for the random drunkard and beggar, none of which paid the young colony any attention. The buildings that bordered the streets of London loomed overhead, their eerie shadows hiding things that would be better left unknown. Even the British capital itself was structured so differently from what Peking, China's capital was like. It was not rare for buildings here to adopt as many floors as liked while China's buildings were always restricted by law according to your hierarchical status.

The fact that he couldn't read English nor speak a word of it suddenly hit him, the street names seeming like complete gibberish to his eyes. In truth, he was lost but he needed to keep moving onwards before his body sold him out and gave up. Continuing onwards, Hong Kong just let his legs walk him to wherever they may think River Thames is.

In due course, he had become completely drained. That night he had refused to eat anything which gave England quite the headache and after walking for hours on end, he was starting to feel slightly faint. Just beyond the dark figure of the Big Ben that had remained withdrawn on the other side of London the entire night which goes to show just how lost he was, Hong Kong could see the first shafts of light spearing the sky, the thunderstorm yesterday having cleared up some hour ago. He was cold, drenched in rain with the early morning temperature attacking his body. In fact, cold to the point his teeth were chattering. It was dawn and he still hadn't found the Port of London. By now someone in England's house should have found his bedroom empty, the horse missing from its stall and the main gate hanging wide open. Hong Kong didn't even want to think what would happen if the blonde nation found him. Would he be grounded? Shut away in some basement in isolation for a week? Starved for days? Beaten?

Then for the first time since sneaking out, he felt lonely and insecure.

China was somewhere over on the other side of the ocean and he had been the one to abandon England. He was in a place he doesn't know at all. He doesn't know his way home. He had no way of contacting England. Just when all hope seems lost, there was a loud nickering of another horse that had just turned the sharp corner. The clip clop of hooves against the cobblestone paved road slowed to a stop as the rider leapt off the animal and ran towards him, shouting his name. Was it just him, or did that sound like England? Hong Kong could hear the man's voice but couldn't even whisper a reply. All he was capable of doing was hugging his knees as close as possible and grit his teeth tightly to try and stop his uncontrollable shivering. His rescuer immediately removed his own jacket and wrapped it around the boy's fragile body. The boy raised his head to look up hazily, his mind barely managing to identify his rescuer as England. The blonde quickly tied Hong Kong's horse's reins to his saddle before returning to the Asian's side.

"You silly child, running out all the way here…" England fumed as he held the boy close then cursed and muttered something about lazy doctors not waking up early enough on Saturdays. Even though he could hear the anger in his voice, Hong Kong knew that the British man wasn't actually angry at him. There was just that peculiar tint of concern laced in his voice that convinced the colony that his guardian wasn't vexed by his rash actions. "Let's get you somewhere warm and out of these wet clothes."

The older nation picked the boy up in an arm and with some trouble, lifted himself and the child up onto the back of his horse. Nudging the horse into motion, Hong Kong unconsciously held a handful of England's shirt, hanging on tightly not because he was afraid of falling off the horse, but because he was just so cold and he wanted to stay close to something warm. Throughout the ride, the colony drifted in between consciousness and numb darkness, his brain only recalling snippets of the entire ordeal.

From that point onwards, he couldn't remember a thing except one. He had never let go of England until he was safe in the care of a doctor and similarly, England himself was never far from the his side.

**[ *** ]**

_I'll spread my wings  
And I'll learn how to fly  
__I'll do what it takes til' I touch the sky  
Though it's not easy to tell you goodbye  
_

All too suddenly, the century he spent living under British rule was over. Hong Kong at first paled at the idea of spending a century with England, thinking that a hundred years would past by like a millennium. But now he just wished that if it was possible, he'd like to stay there a little longer. It had been hard to become adjusted to a Western lifestyle, much less develop a liking for England. He still remembered their first greetings with one another were everything but straightforward and socially comfortable. And though now he was to bid the man farewell, Hong Kong once again found himself stuck in that same awkward situation, his lips unable to utter a single word.

Like a young hatchling, he would eventually have to learn how to use those wings he had been born with and fly away. He wanted to explore the world even more ever since England had shown him what it was like, but he didn't want to be separated from the second family he had been welcomed into.

Oddly enough, the night before he was to return back to China, Hong Kong had confessed to England about this conflicting emotion. It was the first time that he had ever willingly revealed his true thoughts to the British man. After hearing him out, all England did was pat him on the head with a smile and said nothing more. Standing beside each other now as they waited for China's arrival, it seemed as if they were sent back to the time when they sat in the horse carriage in hushed peace. But much different from that time, Hong Kong could read England's body language. The long dreary look on his face, the listless gaze of his forest green eyes and his tense stance – no matter how good the man was at hiding things from others, he could never fool Hong Kong's sharp eyes.

No doubt, the British man held mutual feelings about his departure, the hateful paradoxical sensation of having to let go though he did not wish to.

_Out of the darkness and into the sun  
But I won't forget the place I come from  
__Won't forget all the ones that I love  
__I gotta take a risk  
__And I'll make a wish  
Take a chance  
Make a change  
And breakaway_

He grew up in the enclosed house of China, was raised in the shadows of two fearless empires that ruled the world and now came the moment where he would step out from their huge shadows into the blinding sunshine to face the world by himself, out of their engulfing shadows. Instead of fulfilling the expectations of other people, he would fulfil his own expectations. Instead of listening to what other people commanded him to do, he'll do what he sees fit. Instead of being represented by other people, he would represent himself. He will no longer be constantly tagged as someone's territory, but recognised as an individual. Sure, the world may not acknowledge him because of his young age and inexperience but he would show his true colours and rise above all to become the phoenix amongst all the others. A newly established special administrative region setting out into the world with hopes, ideals and determination all compressed into one island nation, Hong Kong understood that he needed to take every opportunity that came his way. If he remained passive, he will achieve nothing. Without risking, he cannot expect to receive any returns. Without changing, nothing will be changed.

Just as China's familiar outline appeared, Hong Kong closed his eyes and prayed for the first time since that time he first came to England. He prayed that this affection for his family and home would stay alive in his heart no matter how troubled he became and prayed that success will be just on the horizon. After a short exchange of words between England and China, he watched as his past caretaker stepped back and his older brother gesture for him to follow him home. Taking a last look at England's destitute face, Hong Kong trailed after the other Asian man. He never looked back.

After all, a journey of a thousand miles always starts with that single step. And even if he has to bear that sorrow of leaving his past behind in order to achieve this, he'll do it.


End file.
